


The Passion of Isabela

by Felicia_Rottingstone



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Light Angst, Light Bondage, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 04:38:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felicia_Rottingstone/pseuds/Felicia_Rottingstone
Summary: “You know, I remember warning you about Rivaini,” Varric reminded her. “You said, and I quote, ‘What about me gives you the impression that crazy is a turn-off?’”“I don’t think those were my exact words,” Hawke protested.“They were,” Varric assured her.  “I remember, because I wrote them down, and I have never written down anything that didn’t happen.”Just a short little fic I did as a writing exercise.





	1. The Problem

“You’re avoiding me,” Hawke accused.

“Hawke!” exclaimed Varric. “What a welcome sight! Want in on a game of Wicked Grace?”

“Not now, Varric,” Hawke answered, not even looking at him.  Her eyes were glued to the pirate sitting opposite him. The one who was studiously peering at the cards in her hand, pointedly  _ not _ looking at Hawke.

“You know, I think I’m going to fold,” Isabela stated. She placed her cards face down in a neat pile, rose to her feet, straightened her sash, and walked out of Varric’s suite.  She did not look at, or even acknowledge, Hawke.

Hawke crossed her arms and exhaled slowly, trying to keep from screaming in frustration. This had happened several times now. Every time Hawke tried to corner Isabela, she’d fake ignorance and leave.  It was hard to have a conversation with a fleeing backside.

“You know, I remember warning you about Rivaini,” Varric reminded her. “You said, and I quote, ‘What about me gives you the impression that crazy is a turn-off?’”

“I don’t think those were my exact words,” Hawke protested.

“They were,” Varric assured her.  “I remember, because I wrote them down, and I have never written down anything that didn’t happen.”

Hawke scoffed, then uncrossed her arms and joined Varric at his table.

“I don’t understand what I did wrong,” Hawke complained, leaning her chin on her balled fists. 

“Why do you assume you did something wrong?” he asked. Varric leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the table and crossing them at the ankles. She looked at him like he was an idiot, then gestured wildly at the door through which Isabela had just exited. 

“I’m sorry, is this sort of behavior some sort of reward?” Hawke asked, her voice coated in sarcasm.  “I was under the impression that when she was happy with me, I was given affection, not silence. This feels like a punishment. Isn’t this punishment?”

“You’re looking at this all wrong,” he countered.  “Rivani ignoring you isn’t a punishment or a reward. Or at least, not for you.”

“You’re saying it has nothing to do with me?” Hawke tried to understand what he was saying, but it was difficult to wrap her head around. Not too long ago, Isabela was sneaking into her estate through the window, pulling her into secluded alleys, and slipping her crude drawings of the two of them together. Then, after the events with the Arishok, she had gone cold.  Ice cold. And Hawke had dueled for her life! It wasn’t fair.

“Oh, it definitely has something to do with you,” Varric clarified. “But Isabela’s idea of punishment is a knife in the back, and her rewards are… well, I’m sure you already know what those are like.  This is something different. It’s more about her than it is about you.”

“So, what, she’s...punishing...herself?” That didn’t make any sense. Punish herself for what? Isabela had come back, when she didn’t have to. She had saved the day by bringing the tome to the Qunari.  What was she punishing herself for?

“Look, the only way you’re gonna work this out is by talking to her,” he advised.

“How am I supposed to do that?” she asked, throwing her arms up in consternation.  “She runs away every time I walk in the room.”

“Isabela’s an uncommon girl. You’ll have to use uncommon methods on her,” he advised.

“Varric, that’s not very helpful,” Hawke complained. He shrugged.

“That’s the best advice I’ve got.”


	2. The Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not going to work if you don’t sell it,” Hawke reminded him.  
> “It’s not going to work because the lines are awful,” he countered.  
> “Remind me, which one of us has actually seduced her?” Fenris rolled his eyes and sighed. “That’s right. Not you. Say the lines, look the part, and get her back to your place.”

“This is a terrible plan,” Fenris complained. He pulled at the collar of the jacket Hawke had coerced him into wearing. It was opened at the throat and showed a considerable amount of chest. It was not his usual outfit, but he looked good in it.

“Look, I didn’t drag you into this for your planning skills,” Hawke snapped.  “You are bait, plain and simple. Your job is to look good and growl something enticing in her ear.”

“I do not growl,” Fenris growled. Hawke rolled her eyes.

“Go over your lines with me again,” she ordered him.  He sighed, but did as she bade him.

“Isabela,” he said, completely devoid of emotion. “Now that you’re not involved with our mutual friend, perhaps you’d like to have a drink with me at my place. I’m told my bedroom looks an awful lot like a ship’s captain’s quarters.”

“It’s not going to work if you don’t sell it,” Hawke reminded him.

“It’s not going to work because the lines are awful,” he countered.

“Remind me, which one of us has actually seduced her?” Fenris rolled his eyes and sighed. “That’s right. Not you. Say the lines, look the part, and get her back to your place.”

“What if she suggests we go somewhere else?” Fenris asked. “What if she’s so taken by me, she drags me into the nearest dark corner and has her way with me?”

Hawke grabbed Fenris and pushed him up against his own front door. In seconds, a dagger was in her hand, its sharp edge pressed against his throat with just enough pressure that the slightest movement would slit his skin open. “Let’s get one thing straight, Fenris. If you allow her to so much as kiss you, I will cut off all your most sensitive bits, feed them to my dog, and hang your body on the front of the Chantry.”

A grin slipped across Fenris’ face, and he put his hands up defensively, trying to suppress a chuckle. “It’s charming how enthusiastically you defend the virtue of a woman who’s slept with half of Kirkwall.”

“Yes, well, she’s allowed to sleep with whoever she wants,” Hawke responded, stepping away from him and setting him loose. “You are not.”

“Don’t worry, she’s safe in my hands,” he assured her. “And I promise not to bed her without you there to watch us.”

Fenris ducked the swing Hawke threw at him, winked at her, and popped out the door.

Hawke retreated to her hiding place in Fenris’ bedroom. She sat down to wait for him to return with Isabela. She sat for about a minute and a half. Then she got up and started pacing the room. The bedroom was huge, and Fenris had filled it with very little furniture, so she had plenty of room to pace back and forth as she grew more agitated.

The longer she went estranged from Isabela, the more frantic she had started to feel. It had been what? Two weeks? Since her duel with the Arishok. All of her remaining wounds had healed, and she was eager to get back to some semblance of normality. But she couldn’t do that because her normal now included Isabela’s frequent presence in her bed. At least, that’s what she told herself.  It was all about the sex. She needed to fix her relationship with Isabela so they could get back to mind-blowing sex. 

And then after the mind-blowing sex, they could have breakfast in bed. They could spend their afternoons hunting down Tal-Vashoth along the coast, their evenings hustling clueless mercenaries at cards in the Hanged Man, and eventually wind up in bed together again. That was all she wanted, really.  To spend all day with Isabela again. Shit.

Hawke didn’t have time to dwell on those thoughts. She heard the front door open, and the sound of Isabela’s laughter floated up the stairs and through the door.  How long had she been pacing, fantasizing about spending all her time with Isabela? She dashed back to her hiding spot as she heard the two of them climbing the stairs.

“You know, you didn’t have to go through a wardrobe change just to show your interest,” Isabela said as she stepped into the room. “I like you just fine in your armor. Hey, I thought you said you redecorated to look like a ship?”

Fenris closed the door behind her. She turned around just in time to hear him turning the lock.

“Fenris?” she called and walked closer to the door. When he didn’t answer, she banged her fist against it. “Fenris, this isn’t funny. Open the damn door.”

Hawke rose from her hiding spot and stepped out to meet her.

“Hello, Isabela.”


	3. The Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela sighed. “You’re not a mage, Hawke.”  
> “Maybe I’m just a late bloomer.”

“You’re trapped.  You’ve got no choice but to talk to me.  It’s the only way you’re getting out of here.”

“Not now, Hawke, I’m trying to get into Fenris’ smallclothes,” Isabela whined, jiggling the doorknob and not looking at Hawke.

“There’s no use. I told him that if he let you kiss him, I would end his ability to reproduce,” Hawke told her. That got her attention.  Isabela spun to face the Champion, her eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“So now you’re cockblocking me?”

“Well, you were being ridiculous, and I had to resort to… uncommon methods,” Hawke attempted to explain.

“You mean, I didn’t want to talk to you, so you kidnapped me,” Isabela clarified.

“I didn’t kidnap you!”

“Oh, so I can leave any time I want? Great, goodbye! See ya!”

“No! Not until you talk to me.”

“See! Kidnapping.”

“I just want you to like me again!” Hawke didn’t mean to shout. And she didn’t mean for it to come out so desperate. She closed her eyes in embarrassment and covered her face in her hands. Maybe, if she thought really, really hard, she could rewind time five minutes and try that again.

“Hawke,” Isabela called out.  Hawke didn’t move. Isabela tried again. “Hawke.”

“I don’t know what happened to make you decide that you were better off without me,” she mumbled into her hands. “Varric said you were punishing yourself, but I don’t understand what for, and I don’t know why you’re taking it out on me, but I don’t like it and I want things to go back to the way they were. So right now, I’m trying to rewind time.”

Isabela sighed. “You’re not a mage, Hawke.”

“Maybe I’m just a late bloomer.” Isabela came to Hawke and pulled her hands from her face. She held them between her own, close to her chest, until Hawke looked at her, uncertainty in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize I was distressing you so much. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I just knew that being around you makes me feel good, and that made me feel guilty, because I don’t think I deserve to feel good after what I did.”

“What you did? Isabela, you came back. You had the book, you were on your way to freedom, and you came back to save us all,” Hawke reminded her. “Your life is still in danger because you chose us. You chose me.”

“But I should have chosen you first,” she protested.  “I shouldn’t have left in the first place. I should have been upfront about everything instead of keeping you in the dark.”

“Who cares? I don’t!” Hawke tried to pull Isabela closer, but the pirate pusher her away.

“You don’t get it!” she yelled.  She was angry now, but Hawke couldn’t tell if it was at her or not. “You could have died in that duel.  For me. I’ve taken care of myself for years. I’ve been the master of my fate since I got out of my marriage, and I promised myself I would never go back.”

“Come now, you would have fought that duel if you could. And if it really bothered you, we could have just fought all the Qunaris.”

“No, it didn’t bother me,” Isabela groaned.  “That’s the problem. I trusted you with my life, and I never trust anyone. I had just betrayed you for my own selfish reasons, and the next second, I was happy to place my life in your hands.  I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

Hawke took a deep breath and tried to understand what Isabela was saying. Isabela didn’t trust people, but she trusted Hawke. That was a good thing, wasn’t it? Except, Isabela trusted Hawke even though Isabela had proven herself to be untrustworthy, according to her, anyway. Which meant, Isabela’s problem came from the face that she didn’t feel like she was on equal footing.  She felt like she  _ owed _ Hawke, and because she didn’t know how to pay Hawke back, she dealt with it the only way she knew how: by not dealing with it at all. 

Hawke rubbed her temples, the beginnings of a headache forming. She wasn’t exactly a dummy, but trying to unweave the convoluted thought patterns of Isabela’s psychology made her brain hurt.  But know that she understood, she could fix it.


	4. The Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nonsense,” Hawke scoffed. “I’ve never died a single time from any of my plans.”  
> “There’s a first time for everything,” Isabela mumbled.

“Remind me again how this is supposed to make me feel better,” Isabela questioned, pulling the rope a bit tighter around Hawke’s shoulders. “Because there is a very real chance that you’re going to die, and then I’ll feel worse than I do now.”

“Nonsense,” Hawke scoffed. “I’ve never died a single time from any of my plans.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Isabela mumbled. She wrapped the rope a second time around Hawke, this time just below her chest, pulling tight the fabric of the already tight dress. It made her look a bit lewd, which was exactly how she wanted to look.

“Now, to really sell this, you’re going to have to gag me,” Hawke told her. “I have a reputation for being mouthy, and none of these slavers will believe for a second that you would let me talk the whole way there if you didn’t like me.”

It was Fenris who had discovered the clutch of slavers holed up in a cave along the coast. He had wanted to go in with all blades drawn, but Hawke knew it was better to get some intel first, figure out how many there were, before they made a plan of attack. At first, she was just going to spy on them, but after her conversation with Isabela, she realized she could use the situation to rectify their relationship.

Isabela had put her life into Hawke's hands, and now Hawke needed to do the same for her. What better way than having Isabela “sell” Hawke to the slavers, then break in and rescue her? Aveline hated it.  Anders hated it. Varric hated it. Merril thought it was romantic, though, and Fenris gave her high praise by saying, “it’s not the worst idea you’ve had.”

The lewd and provocative dress was just to sell the story.  No one would believe the Champion of Kirkwall had been captured while armed and in armor.  The story was, Hawke had been having a grand time at The Blooming Rose, drinking and celebrating, when Isabela had spiked her drink, lured her out of the establishment and into a dark alley, and tied her up. And the reason Isabela did this was… well, they hadn’t figured that out quite yet, but Hawke was confident Isabela would come up with something convincing if she was asked.

Once gagged, Isabela marched Hawke along the path to where they had planned to meet the slavers. Fenris and Merrill were nearby, just in case, but this was mostly all up to Isabela. The slavers recognized Hawke, as expected, but they didn’t recognize Isabela, and so didn’t question her motivation. Isabela turned on her charm, and they caught a stroke of luck when she was invited back to the cave with them for a drink or two. Isabela feigned hesitation, but not for long.

In the cave, Hawke was able to get a good estimation of how many slavers there were: about 30, although two were too old to pose any sort of threat. Isabela made herself charming company, and when the boss showed up (make that 31), he was happy to hear her tell the story of Hawke’s capture.

“You know, I heard people say that she was mouthy,” Isabela told him, using Hawke’s own words in her story. “But I thought that meant she was good with her mouth.”

The men gathered around her, including the boss, all chuckled in knowing amusement. They made a few uncouth comments about Hawke’s other body parts, and Isabela played into it.

“She is a looker, but there’s not much skill, I’m afraid,” she pouted. The boss made sympathetic comments, then began to boast of his own talents.  Hawke’s cheeks burned. She didn’t mind being made fun of, especially since it was part of the plan, but she didn’t like the way he flirted with Isabela.  There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be able to please her as well as Hawke could.

As the boss and Isabela continued their conversation, the rest of the men faded away, most settling down to sleep. Eventually, the two of them slunk off to some private alcove out of sight, for all appearances looking like a pair about to bed each other.

Hawke waited.

And waited. 

And waited.

After what seemed like hours, Hawke heard scuffling behind her. There were a few grunts, then the unmistakable sound of a throat being slit. For a moment, Hawke was afraid that Isabela had been found out, and killed.  Then, someone yanked her to her feet, cut her ropes, and pressed a dagger into her hand.

“Let’s send all these bastards back to whatever dark hole they climbed out of,” Isabela whispered in her ear.

The two of them slipped silently around the cave, blending into the shadows, and dispatched the slavers one slit throat at a time.


	5. The Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke had never wanted anything as much as she wanted Isabela. And she’d do anything to make her happy.

“Remind me again how this is supposed to make you feel better,” Isabela questioned, pulling the rope a bit tighter around Hawke’s shoulders. “Because there is a very real chance that I am the only one getting pleasure from this situation.”

Hawke grinned at her reflection in the mirror as Isabela wrapped the rope around her the second time, this time under her breasts. It pulled tight the fabric of the already tight dress, making her look a bit lewd.  She wanted to look lewd.

“They say that the secret to a healthy relationship is mixing it up every once in a while,” Hawke told her. “You said you didn’t want to be tied down, but you never said anything about not wanting to tie me down.”

Isabela grinned and kissed Hawke’s exposed shoulder. “I believe this is actually tying you up, not down.”

“Well, you are the expert on ropes,” Hawke conceded.

Isabela spanked Hawke once, and murmured, “Cheeky.”

Hawke liked the spank. She liked the way she looked all tussled up, and she particularly liked Isabela’s enthusiasm when she suggested that she tie her up and have her way with her. Things weren’t exactly back to normal with them, but they were getting there. Their encounter with the slavers seemed to do the trick for Isabela, and she no longer avoided Hawke like the plague.

Still, this was the first time she had gotten the pirate to come back to her place since.  She wasn't even sure she would have been able to if Isabela hadn’t drunk a considerable amount of rum at the Hanged Man. But the glint in her eyes when Hawke invited her back was all the proof Hawke needed to know that she hadn’t lost her.

Now, Isabela’s eyes were dark and heavy with desire. She had secured the ropes with a sailor’s skill, and Hawke couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. She did not want to. Isabela’s hands were all over her, feeling her stomach, her hips, her thighs, and finally, her breasts caught between the ropes. Isabela gripped the neckline of Hawke’s dress with both hands, and with a sharp yank, ripped the garment down the middle.  Hawke wasn’t wearing anything underneath, not even her stays, and her tanned breasts spilled out into view.

Isabela wasted no time on tender, teasing touches. She squeezed and kneaded them before bringing her mouth down on one of Hawke’s nippled, sucking and biting it until Hawke couldn’t help but moan. 

Once she had paid sufficient attention to Hawke’s breasts, Isabela forced her to walk backward until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed and she fell backward. Isabela went down with her, her thigh pressing between Hawke’s legs.  Hawke spread them willingly, and ground her sex against Isabela, the wetness of her arousal smearing on the smooth leather of Isabela’s thigh-high boots. 

Isabela threaded her fingers through Hawke’s hair and pulled her head back, exposing her throat. The sensation of her tongue on Hawke’s sensitive flesh sent shivers through her, and she moaned again. Isabela sucked on her skin hard, and Hawke knew she’d have visible hickeys in the morning, but she didn’t care. She hoped Isabela left hickeys over her entire body, and she’d show them off with pride.

“Are you sure I can do whatever I want to you?” Isabela asked, ripping off the rest of Hawke’s flimsy dress, until she was completely naked and at her mercy.

“Yes,” Hawke panted. “You can treat me like a naughty sailor, a thrall of desire, or your own personal pleasure toy. Just please don’t stop.”

Isabela pulled back from Hawke, stepping away from the bed.  Hawke was disappointed, but restrained as she was, she couldn’t do anything about it. Her fears were relieved when Isabela kicked off her boots, shed her sash, tunic, and undergarments, and climbed back on to the bed.

“You know, Hawke, you’ve got such good ideas, sometimes,” she purred, straddling her at the waist and raking her nails across Hawke’s breasts. “I think that first, I’ll treat you like my own personal pleasure toy.  Then, once I’m satisfied with that, I’ll punish you for your abysmal sailing abilities. Perhaps a few lashes while you… swab my deck?”

She giggled at her own innuendo, but Hawke didn’t find it funny.  She found it irresistible. She found the idea of giving Isabela pleasure, serving her in all ways, to be undeniably delicious. 

“And then, once you’ve fully atoned for your seafaring sins,” Isabela continued. “Once I’m sure you’re completely enthralled to me, I’ll give you a little relief.”

Isabela reached her hand back and slipped it between Hawke’s legs, rubbing her fingers along the slick, wet folds. Once her fingers were coated with Hawke’s desire, she put them into her mouth, tasting how much Hawke wanted her.

Hawke had never wanted anything as much as she wanted Isabela. And she’d do anything to make her happy.


End file.
